


Things As They Are

by LyricalTea (OnlyHitsuzen)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: EVERYONE - Freeform, Family, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2546132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyHitsuzen/pseuds/LyricalTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles of an KHR AU; where Tsuna has an additional skill aside from his Dying Will Flames, and accidentally grows closer to his family because of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins With a Whimper

      He discovers purely by accident that Lambo, and I-Pin, when she had gotten curious and followed Lambo one day, will stay in one place if Tsuna allows them to draw with him. Well, he says ‘allows’ but its more like he actually gives them materials, instead of them trying to sneak off with them.

  
      Anyway, he hadn’t known it was a thing that would’ve even worked (else he’d have done it _so long ago_ ). Lambo had broken into his art room once, probably thinking it was an unused room to play hide and seek in, and frightened both himself and an unsuspecting Tsuna; of course Lambo then worked himself up into quite the guilty temper tantrum, and blew himself up with that damn Ten-Year- Bazooka. Tsuna, at the time, wary of what the future seventeen-year old would possibly due to his precious work, hastily covered it with a sheet and waited.

  
      Future Lambo, clear of hazy pink, gave the wide room a lazy glance, and after a moment, a fond grin. “Ah, Tsuna-nii, is this your secret work room?”  
In that one sentence was everything, so Tsuna sighed with relief and gave Lambo a very happy smile. “I guess it doesn’t stay a secret,” he’d said ruefully, hand scratching absently at the back of his head, “But yeah, I guess it is.”

  
_If it’s a secret it’s a well kept one_ , he had thought. _Probably everyone is keeping it a secret from me that they know- it’s a secret in a secret, but not really?_ It made his head hurt just a little. He knew Reborn knew; it was foolish to think otherwise. Did any of others suspect-? Tsuna made a slightly paranoid decision to keep an eye on his Family keeping an eye on him.

  
     Lambo nodded, surely not realizing he was, because he said, “ I remember this room; It’s where-ah.” The not-quite-guilty expression that was forced into a suspiciously blank innocence didn’’t ease Tsunas nerves at all. Seriously.

  
      It must’ve shown in his face, because Lambo all of a sudden started spouting confusing reassurances, until Tsunas cheeks started to ache from smiling so hard. “It’s fine, it’s fine- it must be important if you can’t say anything, right?” Lambo nodded again, furiously, dark curls flying every which way. And Tsuna, amused, thinks to himself that he should know better than to try and ask the future selves anything about their pasts- his present. Brown eyes trailed from the still nodding Lambo to the covered art, and he thought _maybe_ -

  
     “Would you like to see it, before you leave?” It’s a loaded question, in a way. Tsuna hadn’t yet told any members of his Family about his work room yet. Telling someone who already knows is his practice. His way of easing himself into it, the actual action of telling anyone. Green eyes widened and a quiet ‘Yes’ is all he needs.

  
     It wasn’t much, and really, it wasn’t even at a stage where it was even worth showing someone, but in this case it really is the thought that counts. It’s a level of trust he hasn’t shown anyone else yet, and seventeen-year old Lambo knows it, if his shining smile that disappeared in a puff of pink smoke was anything to go by.

  
      The smoke cleared slowly to reveal his Lambo, small hands covered in paints and blinking. The paint gave him an idea, one he’ll decide is what leads to the eventual event of ‘Nii-san’ being added to his name, and he set Lambo up with lots of paper towels, a large piece of paper, and several tiny pots of paint for him to dip his pudgy fingers into and have at the paper.

  
     It’s only several sessions later it occurs to Tsunayoshi, when Lambo and I-Pin and Fuuta are each working on earning his easily given approval, that having his kids enjoying his favorite pastime with him makes his days just a little brighter.


	2. Never the Expected Ones

     Tsuna had know from a very young age that that he wasn't special, like some of the kids in his classes, and probably was never going to be. He'd never found it particularly easy to do anything. Teachers, beyond the standard 'Good Job' on answers he sometimes got correct, didn't show him any special attention or praise him more than any others. They simply didn't. When he cried, as he was far more likely to do than he ever will admit to- not that he thinks he's fooling anyone who knows him- his teachers became distressed or, in the more rare extreme cases, angry. The corner became a familiar place to him, featured highly in his childhood memories.

    After his time in the corner was over, one of the more soft-hearted teachers would come over to him and try to explain that it was unseemly to cry in public, and he should always maintain a happy face. Now, Tsuna supposes, the teacher might have meant to say that he should try to stay positive but six-year-old Tsunayoshi had taken it to mean he should always smile no matter what.

    It resulted in several crying disasters that had him smiling as tears and snot ran down his face, scaring both the teachers and his Mom. Luckily she knew exactly how to calm him down.

   Soft laughter, and even softer touches running through his wild brown hair, and a voice that tried to hide laughter, once she realized why Tsuna was crying and smiling. “My Tsu-kun is such a good listener! But you don’t have to smile if you’re upset.”

   Even his mother knew that, as a child, Tsuna was average in the way of most children, never understanding better than most, or seeming more skilled than any. He’d had fantastic childish dreams of what he might be good at once he grew up, and became a cooler, older adult.

   Tsuna, some days, snorts with laughter whenever he remembers them. On days trodden with somber grey silences, and dark gazes, he thinks on them wistfully. Wonders if they would be peaceful.

   Young Tsunayoshi had always thought if he were to _ever_ be good at anything, it’d be something different, or unexpected.

    _Useless_ , even.

   Maybe he’d be great at, at mowing the lawn (he’s not), having amazing handwriting (“it’s almost doctor worthy, Jyuudaime!” “...Thank you, Gokudera.”), or drawing a perfect circle (Impressive no matter what anyone says!) (and something he cannot do). However, his experimentation in art did lead to a rather surprising discovery.

   Tsuna wasn't completely terrible at art.

   Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration. He can admit it now, now that he’s got friends, Family, and things he’s really good at (protecting his family is definitely a skill he’s worked hard to become good at).

   But when art was his only half worthy redeeming quality, he’d cuddled it close, kept it close to his heart,as if it were the blood that kept it alive and beating, and told no one when he began to learn it in earnest.

   Because while his art wasn't terrible, it was never quite...acceptable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone feels up to being beta to this short, infrequently updated story, please contact me- it's not going to grow into a huge word monster, ever, they'll all be tiny chapters. Thanks for reading!!


	3. It's Not Hard

     Tsuna’s works are far from normal. Too abstract, yet not abstract enough to be considered a ‘work of art’. He knows, thanks to a countless amount of people telling him that.

     ‘ _But what is it_ ,’ they say.' _I don’t get it_ ’. Complete with a confused smile. Young Tsunayoshi never got why they didn’t see, even when he held it right to their faces.

     (Now, Tsuna likes to think he was just too deep a thinker as kid, despite the fact that only his guardians and a few Varia members can read his art correctly, years later).

     (He is also aware that ‘deep thinker’ is not what many would call him. Ever.)

     Rarely did he draw a piece that had a stunningly obvious story. While others drew smiling faces and family stick figures, Tsunayoshi often used irregular shapes and colors to show his stories.

     “Tsuna-chan”, the art teacher would begin kindly, “That’s not how we draw a person! People have round heads and pink skin.”

     Immediately, he would reply, “I know.” There was no use in trying to explain that the rainbow square atop the thin green body was not his mother. It was all the pretty pictures in his room he’d collected from the nice neighbor down the street who liked to garden and take pictures in the spring.

     It _wasn’t_ hard to understand.

     As he got older, he soon found out that it _was_ that hard to understand, and the many stories he’d drawn were likely never to be recognized for what they were.

    Tsuna stopped showing people his art, and gradually it became forgotten by those close to him. A not-secret secret kept by one, from none.


	4. It's a Matter of Opinion

     Reborn doesn't say anything about it, the first time he sees Tsuna’s ‘Art’- mostly because, unknown to Tsuna at the time, it wasn't his first time seeing his students ‘secret projects’.

 

     It’s only years later that Tsuna actually finds that out.

 

     Tsuna supposes he’s grateful for that; if Reborn had said anything about the fact that he knew Tsuna liked to paint, and draw, and create, Tsuna would probably have given up his hobby completely, quite possibly resenting Reborn for it as long as they both lived.

 

     But he didn't. (And honestly, Tsuna can’t hold a grudge longer than a day. While he might not have _resented_ Reborn for it, regret would have definitely burrowed itself into his heart.)

 

     The first time Tsuna can recall _knowing_ that Reborn knew about his hobby was years after Reborn had started training him.

 

     It had been a long day, stressful and tiring. A sleepy and growing irritated Lambo had set off Gokudera, who had in turn set off both Hibari _and_ Mukuro in a rare showing of inattention. Somehow, yet unsurprisingly, Tsuna was the one who ended up with the most bruises when the fighting came to a finish.

 

     (He technically doesn't discipline them the way most people- Reborn- says he should in order to keep his Family in line. He’s their friend and protector, NOT their parent. Reborn says its just another way to be the same thing, damn him. Tsuna once pointed out that, despite their best intentions, near half of his Guardians did not the best of role models when it came to parents.So, y’know. Really.)

 

     The Vongola leader had just wanted to relax and lick his wounds once he’d gotten Gokudera to stop being a mopey puddle of apologies in the middle of what had been a perfectly nice hallway.

 

     So he’d straggled into his Art Room and pulled out his supplies. Bright markers and colored stock cards for mixed media, as well as oil pastels and clean towels, just in case. He’d been well into a soothing work rhythm, time lost to his focus when-

 

     “Dame-Tsuna.”

 

     Marker caps and pastels showered the floor when he’d jumped, a lovely dark blue pastel streaking the pages as it clattered to the ground. Tsuna had sighed and turned mournful, tired eyes on the baby Hitman. “Reborn.” Too tired to even give a good and proper “Hiiiiiieee!”

 

     Unapologetic, Reborn remarked, “A good Boss should always be aware when someone enters the room he’s in.” Pause. “Especially if that someone manages to remain in the room over an hour without detection.”

 

     Tsuna groaned.

 

     Reborn ignored the mumbling of his student as he examined the half-done work. It wasn't spectacular in any way; too abstract to make sense yet it it held his attention. The bright colors haphazardly glued across the page. A small, extending outline of a black mass filled with streaks of cutout stock paper and oil-pastel haze, seeming to stretch forward and off the page. The haze has no discernible shape but- “It’s a weapon,” Reborn said aloud, once it clicked. “It’s Lambo’s annoying bazooka, isn't it.”

 

     Reborn wasn’t actually asking, Tsunayoshi realized. Despite his teachers, mom, and other students never understanding, Reborn had managed to find the story in the art. He nodded carefully, quietly, waiting for Reborn Lesson Number 698.

 

     It didn't come. With a one more backward glance at the work, Reborn jumped up and kicked Tsuna in the forehead. “If you have time to tell stories, you have time to fix the mess your guardians created.”

 

     (At the time Tsuna had been amazed and in awe that it only took Reborn seconds to find the complete story in his haphazard art- only to realize that Reborn had literally had years of practice to decipher them. Didn't stop him from being in awe, if anything it made it worse. Someone had taken _time_ to figure it out. That, more than anything, made him happier than almost anything could.)

  
     (He says almost, because once, for his birthday, his guardians has agreed to a ceasefire between them. It only _lasted_ a day but to this day the memory of the money he saved from that manages to brighten his smile even now.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! I haven't quite figured out how to reply to them personally rather than as another comment (at least I think thats an option) but I definitely read and appreciate them!


	5. A Cloud In The Sky Is Not The Same As A Storm

 

 

            Tsuna thinks immediately, from the moment Gokudera walks in, that they aren’t going to get along.

            It’s clear they won’t get along when Gokudera kicks his desk for _no apparent reason_ and causes an uproar in his class because _Dame-Tsuna must’ve done something to this guy to get that kind of reaction_.

            (Tsuna, scared and a little upset, wonders when they think he’s had to time to go upset _a new exchange student honestly what_.)

            Beyond that, Tsuna _knows it_ because of the colors he can see in Gokudera.

            It’s not literal, and it’s not new.  He can’t actually see the colors outside of his mind’s eye. They, just, _appear_ , in his head when he’s meeting new people, or old people, or kids, or a tree, or- they’re just always there. He never paid attention to them as a kid. Trying to describe to people what they looked like, or felt like, because of their special colors quickly got dull. People never seemed to know what he meant.

After a while, he’d assumed everyone associated colors like he did, but never spoke about it. He quickly (incorrectly) came to believe that to talk about it was taboo. Like everyone in the world was keeping one secret-not-secret.

            So he put it into his art. Like his green-thumb neighbor ends up with obvious colors; shades and tints of green, complemented by a dash of red, nothing overbearing, and a faded yellow, because too much sunlight can kill certain plants.

            Or the more complex pink-orange-purple tones and hues of his Mom, though Tsuna knows, somehow, though the darkening orange is a color that didn’t come naturally to Sawada Nana. Still, most days the pink overtakes the orange, and he doesn’t overly concern himself with it.

            Tsuna, when he’s brave enough, can find a few noteworthy colors in himself as well. A surprising amount of shaded orange, hidden well beneath an unassuming and appalling amount of checkered beige-and-off-white.  Dottings of brown, and to his confusion, strings of gold and bronze.

            Sometimes the colors throw him off. They rarely match up to a clear meaning. Tsuna figures it’s not really an advantage, then, since it’ll take _time_ to figure out these colors. (Don’t even get him started on _Reborn_ and that darn pacifier).

            With Gokudera, he sees- feels- sees the colors in his minds eye long before Gokudera shows his disapproval of Tsuna in general.

            (Well _he can get in line_ , okay, the _world itself_ seems to disapprove of Tsuna, just ask Reborn at any time. Literally.)

            Much like he’ll find out later, Gokudera is a storm of colors. Charcoal giving way into an ombre, not unlike the skies before they either worsen and bring about typhoons, or lighten and give way to lazy, rainy days. Garnet, Garnet everywhere in differing amounts, and Tsuna can almost _taste it_ , how heavily it hangs around him. Buzzing in, and out, are electric blue, and ugly, hostile chartreuse in a blob of mishmashed shapes.

            (Later, these colors will even out, soothe and smooth into a reliable picture that forms _Hayato_ and not _Gokudera_ , but for now, it’s all Tsuna can do to not flinch as those chaotic static colors _walk toward him_.)

            (And as much as it hurts to admit, Tsuna won’t see the beginning of _Hayato_ until long after _Gokudera_ has been in his group of friends.)

            Still—Still.

            After Gokudera challenges him and Reborn shoots him _again are you kidding me_.

            After Gokudera has seen something _worthy_ in Tsunayoshi Sawada, in _Dame-Tsuna_ , (and he wonders if maybe, _maybe_ , Gokudera too, can see those colors in Tsuna) and the bullies are lying in a burning heap of re-formed life choices.

            Tsuna begins to see the opalescence hiding behind all those crazy colors in Gokudera, that it may one day become so much _more;_ and relaxes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait- I had intended to update this at least once a month. I hope this wasn't confusing (or too confusing). Thank you again for your kudos and comments~


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